Heart to heart
by myungjoo
Summary: The thoughts of a certain blonde mage as she realizes her feelings for her friend and pink-haired partner. She is only a teenage girl, after all. NaLu.


Author's note: Hey everyone! This is my first Fairy Tail's story, I hope you'll enjoy it. :)

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters don't belong to me.

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><p><strong>Heart to heart<strong>

_Weak. Weak. Weak._

The words rang in Lucy's head as she watched _his_ blood dropping to the dusty ground she was kneeling on. She has been thrown against a side of the battle field, again. She has been protected by him, again. He was hurt because of her. Again, again, _again_.

Her fists were clenched tightly as she fought mentally to not cry. Her friends, her _nakama_, they were all fighting until no one was a threat anymore. Especially him. Natsu. She loved how his name was rolling on her tongue. Here he was, spitting fire, fighting with all his strength, and more even.

And in all of this chaos, he would look at her. For one second. Or two.

So, she stood up. She stood on her feet, and blew the hair out of her eyes. And she fought, too. Until her arms were too numb, until her legs were sore, until her head was hurting so much that she wanted to throw up. Until he gave her a smile.

Until he came at her side and snort at her bad state, oblivious of his own terrible looks.

And she smiled back. She smiled, accepting his warm hand, oh _so_ warm.

Warmth that left her as quickly as it came. Because he was walking away. Too far for her to reach. He was laughing with Happy, he was teasing the Ice mage, he was, he was...

And she was behind, looking at him; his blood, his sweat, his scars, _but_ his smile, his eyes, his hands too. And she let out a breathe she didn't know she was holding. Her brown eyes widened slightly, and she understood.

She threw up.

_Plock. Plock. Plock_

The sound of the water drop falling on the bath she was appeased her. Hugging her legs to her chest, she sighed. It was all a lie, she now knew it. She was hiding herself behind _the_ word. The word he was giving so much importance to.

_Nakama_, the water whispered to her. And at this moment, she was tempted to summon Aquarius and tell her to drown the whole place with her magic but she didn't.

In a side of her head, she was trying to list what she was good at; she was not as strong as Erza, she was not as pretty as Mirajane, she was not cute like Wendy, or Levy. She was not coming back from another world like Lisanna, damn she was not even rich anymore!

Funny how the tears were making the same sound as the water drop when it was falling on the water.

_Turn. Turn. Turn._

It was one of these few nights where the only thing she was doing was turning in her bed. Again, and again. She tried everything, reading, eating, drinking, writing, listening to music and everything else possible. She even thought of summoning Loke. Just to have someone to talk to, you know.

But she knew. This or that couldn't replace the fact that she was now aware of that _freaking_ feeling that was making her life miserable since they came back from the mission. Where she had been saved by him, once again, she noted miserably.

Out of frustration, the blonde kicked her cover and put her pillow on her face. She screamed. She screamed, but stopped.

He was here.

She threw the pillow somewhere and sat up. He was chuckling and she wanted to strangle him. She also wanted to remind him that her window was _not_ a door, but it was useless. She watched how he jumped skillfully, the moon making his muscles glow- and _oh god_, what the hell was she thinking now? She would have hit herself if she hadn't felt the bed shift.

And, in one instant, she was lying down, next to him. Touching him without really touching him. Aware of his warmth, of his body, of his arms on her waist- _oh_. And his eyes. Looking at her. Her, her, _her_. Only her.

She punched him and went to sleep on her couch. (She really tried to, but a pair of eyes were haunting her and butterflies wouldn't leave her stomach. Or maybe it was some little _evil_ dragons, she didn't know anymore.)

_Sick. Sick. Sick._

She was unaware of the sympathetic looks the barmaid was giving her. Her head resting on the cool glass, she was trying to suppress that sick feeling out of her body, mind, soul, _heart_ or wherever it was.

If only she could grab it and throw it herself, she thought, unaware of her surroundings.

Until she felt it. _His_ hand on _her_ shoulder.

And in thirty-five seconds, she was all gone, non before screaming that it was all his fault. (Yes, Erza did count.)

She ran into Gajeel and almost kicked him when he didn't move to let her go out. But he did anyway.

She didn't heard the giggle of Mirajane, just like she didn't notice the frown on the dragonslayer's face, wondering what he did wrong for her to be that angry?

She ran. She ran, and she didn't stopped until she reached the river. There, she growled, and grabbed her hair, stomping on her foot.

She tried to kick a rock but she felt on her butt, making her scream insanities.

Some villagers got afraid, and they ran to the guild, screaming how a monster took possession of the blonde's body.

_Hot. Hot. Hot._

She hated the sun. She hated when it was hot, or even close to warm. She hated how it was making her sweat, or how she was breathless after a few seconds. But, somehow, she knew she couldn't live without it. _Him_.

She stopped in the middle of a street, making some people frown and groan. She squatted down suddenly, messed her hair, saying unknown words.

_You're totally crazy_. Great! Now she was hearing his voice. Well, if it wasn't the worst, she didn't know what it was. Oh, _wait_, maybe imagining him next to her, making her stand, looking at her with a genuine concern written all over his face, his right hand on her waist and his left hand on her cheek and-

Oh. _Oh_.

Her heart was burning, and she hated him.

_Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. _

A few days after Lucy's weird behaviour, they went on a mission in a small village. Not enough for her rent, but enough to provide the five of them food for a few weeks.

She was still behind. Looking at his back. Thinking how she could never reach him. Even if she was stretching her hand the closest to him she could, he would always be out of her reach.

And he kept walking, as if he was teasing her by getting farther.

She put her hand where her heart was, wanted to appease it. But the way it was slamming against her chest was just _freaking_ killing her.

She walked faster and kicked the object of her hatred who felt ungraciously on the floor. (She couldn't help but worry when she saw he was _very_ slightly bleeding, though.)

They arrived at night at the village, so they simply made their camp on a hill, the grass enough high to create a comfortable floor to sleep on.

Well, unless that she _couldn't_ sleep. (blame you know who.)

So she was gazing at the night sky, finding some constellations, and she swore she sometimes saw her spirits waved at her. She brushed aside the fact that she saw way too many shooting stars.

Here he was, next to her. She didn't even jumped, nor sighed. She accepted the fact that he was destined to make her life a heaven- _hell_.

He, surprisingly, was quiet, and sat behind her, and, _oh my god_, he put her against his chest and his arms were around her waist and his chin against her shoulder and his breathe against her neck- _oh my god_. (No, she was not about to scream out of happiness and kiss him senseless.)

What was she searching in the sky, he asked her. She didn't replied, savouring his skin against hers.

Why did her heart was beating so fast, he asked her. She sighed contently and closed her eyes.

He talked about how he searched the past days what he could have done wrong, and he honestly didn't know. It was making him uneasy, and he may have say something like she was weirder than usual. She heard the words but she wouldn't recall it in the morning.

No, she wouldn't. But the thing she was sure to remember was their fingers interlaced, and how she did felt his heart beat as fast as hers.

And how he murmured, almost like a child, that he didn't liked her behaviour and that he would make sure to _always_ stay with her because he _really liked _the old Lucy better.

_Love. Love. Love._

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>_  
><em>


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